


Chocolate Teapot

by wildeisms



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Newt Scamander, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildeisms/pseuds/wildeisms
Summary: Self-doubt and blame start to cloud Newt's view of himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is another procrastination fic - this one inspired by a conversation with my mum in which she used the phrase 'as useful as a chocolate teapot', which I then ended up imagining Newt saying for reasons unknown to me - which I wrote while running on 4 hours sleep and not enough caffeine, and I'm now posting it at 2:30AM. When I have 11(!) other fic drafts open on my laptop, most of which are meant to be much more substantial stories. But I didn't work on any of those this evening, I opened up a new document and I wrote this, so here we are.
> 
> If anyone would like to bully me into being a good writer or generally functional human because right now I am apparently neither, feel free to do so in the comments.

Since beginning his travels, since taking on the role of caretaker for his creatures, Newt had felt mostly happy. True, bad things happening around him could still make him feel sad and angry, and he did occasionally sink into misery of his own accord, but much of the time he found that he simply had too much to do to feel sorry for himself. And since falling for Jacob and moving his suitcase into his lover’s apartment, he’d had even fewer bad days. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t have them at all.

He was having a bad day when Jacob tried to teach him how to create frosting patterns. He wasn’t a bad artist when he was using a quill to draw, but when it came to using icing, he seemed to be totally useless. And on a good day, he could have accepted it with a laugh and agreed to leave the decorating to Jacob. But this wasn’t a good day.

He had been expecting Daisy, one of his mooncalves, to go into labour almost a week ago. It wasn’t necessarily a cause for concern that she hadn’t given birth when he had expected, but all the same, he had been keeping a closer eye on her. And finally, that morning, he had entered their habitat to find her with three tiny figures on the ground next to her.

At first, he had been elated. Twin mooncalves were rare enough, but triplets? Triplets were remarkable. Except there was something wrong. One of the figures, the smallest of the three by far, was not moving at all. He hurried to its side, but it was too late. 

He hadn’t even been expecting two, let alone three, new baby mooncalves, and yet it was still heartbreaking to see an innocent creature that hadn’t even been given a chance to live lying dead next to its mother. But he couldn’t dwell on it, not when he had two new infants to care for.

But could he care for them? Surely he should have known that Daisy was having triplets, should have been able to ensure all of them lived. What was the point of all of this if these creatures were still dying as they would be if he wasn’t even there? The thoughts spiralled around in his mind as he examined Daisy and each of the mooncalf babies to ensure that they, at least, were safe and healthy - although perhaps once again, he’d miss something and one of them would die or fall ill too. And to top things off, he was so preoccupied that his mind was not on his feeding rounds, and he almost forgot to prepare the food for the baby graphorns. Maybe, despite everything, he really wasn’t good enough to take care of these creatures.

It had taken him far longer than usual to complete the standard daily tasks, practically the full morning. And of course, when he finally finished, he felt far too exhausted. He wanted to crawl back into bed, but he had too much to do. He had some messily scribbled notes he needed to translate into regular English before he forgot what half of it meant. Already, he was stuck on some of his own writing, symbols and misspellings and messy handwriting all mixed with the excitement he had clearly been feeling while writing his notes making parts illegible. He really needed to develop some standardised note taking form. But of course, that was another one of his failings.

Eventually, he gave up entirely and abandoned the mess of papers on his messy desk. Pickett seemed to be fussing, but Newt wasn’t in the mood to talk very much. How could he tell Pickett that he was an unfit carer when the poor dear had attachment issues? That news would surely break his little heart, and Newt couldn’t add yet another mistake to the day’s list. No, he needed something else. Perhaps some time outside of what was literally and metaphorically his own little world might help him get his mind working again. 

He had hoped that helping Jacob in the kitchen would take his mind off of his own failures. Except of course, he was inept in the kitchen too. Was there anything he could do right? Or would everyone in the world, including his beloved creatures and wonderful lover, be better off without him? They were probably sick of him anyway, now he thought about it. He was just a nuisance. Poor Jacob probably felt like he had to teach Newt - stupid, incapable Newt - how to do something as simple as icing a pattern onto a biscuit, that somehow he was still failing to do. 

It was too much. He wanted to run away, to go home and hide, but where was there to go? He was already at home, and he wasn’t sure he would feel any better inside his case, surrounded by the creatures who relied on such a useless person as himself to keep them alive. 

He didn’t even know he’d started crying until a soft voice drew him back into reality and he realised his cheeks were wet with tears.

“Hey, Newt, baby…” Jacob murmured, a level of pain in his voice that broke Newt’s heart. “Baby, it’s okay. Can I touch you?”

Newt wasn’t sure he could speak without his voice cracking, so he simply nodded and allowed Jacob to wrap his arms around him. He buried his face in Jacob’s hair, the familiar scent both comforting and heartbreaking at the same time. He wouldn’t be able to have this for much longer, not when Jacob fully realised how utterly incompetent he was and left him for some better person.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay. What’s got you all upset, huh?” he asked, rubbing Newt’s back with the perfect amount of firm pressure as Newt let himself cry.

“I c-can’t do anything right,” Newt whined, and he knew he must sound pitiful. At this point, it must surely be pity and a sense of obligation causing Jacob to hold onto him like this.

“Hey, that’s not true,” Jacob insisted, and Newt found himself being led to the sofa and pulled gently down. He didn’t protest, instead letting himself be manoeuvred like an inanimate doll. “They’re just cookies and you’ve never done it before, it doesn’t matter… But something else happened today, right? You wanna talk about that?”

Newt sniffed and curled in on himself, hiding his face in Jacob’s hair once again. “Daisy gave birth today. She- She had triplets, but one of them died, and I… I didn’t even know he existed until it was too late. I didn’t save him, I should have known and been prepared, and-”

“Ah-ah-ah, none of that, baby,” Jacob said in a gentle yet firm voice that left no room for argument. “You can’t blame yourself. It sucks, but there’s no guarantee you could’ve done a thing even if you had known, and you’ve still got two healthy mooncalf babies, right?”

“But what if I fail them too? I nearly forgot to feed the graphons today, and I just- I can’t do anything.” He hadn’t felt this bad in a long time, but now he was there, he couldn’t see a way out. There was none, surely, when it was his own fault in the first place. “I’m about as useful as a chocolate teapot.”

“Hey. It’s okay to have a bad day, it doesn’t mean you’re failing,” Jacob soothed. His voice was low and comforting, and there was a warmth to it that felt like the home Newt had been craving. He knew Jacob was right, of course. Bad days would pass, even if it felt like they never would. And his bad days didn’t define him, even if it felt like they did. And there was something cathartic about this. But all the same, he couldn’t quite get rid of the heaviness of self-doubt within him. 

“And besides,” he continued, and Newt could hear the smile in his voice. “A chocolate teapot sounds pretty tasty to me.”

It was impossible not to laugh at that, and Newt pulled back slightly to see Jacob’s smile for himself. It was, of course, beautiful as always. So much so, in fact, that a hint of happiness was pushing back against the self-doubt in Newt’s mind. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I made you laugh,” he pointed out with a grin and pressed a kiss to Newt’s cheek. “And if I’m right, that’s what you need right now.”

Newt smiled faintly and closed the distance between them to kiss Jacob on the lips. “You’re so good to me,” he murmured.

“Course I am. Now, you’re gonna relax, and I’m gonna bring you cookies and tea, and we’re gonna sit together until you feel better, alright?” The way he said it left no room for debate, but Newt found that he didn’t mind it. Jacob’s concerns for Newt’s health - and, on occasion, sanity - were always at least somewhat sweet, but when he felt capable, they could seem restrictive and irritating too. But in this instance, it sounded like exactly what he needed. Not to mention, this was very much Jacob’s area of expertise.

Newt could comfort a creature without a problem, but when it came to managing his own emotions, he would admit he was not the most skilled. They could be confusing and overwhelming, and once a certain mood had taken him, it became rather a challenge to free himself from its grasp. But Jacob… Jacob seemed to know how to make anyone happy, creatures and humans alike, and Newt was no exception. He had even learnt how to make a more than decent cup of tea for such an occasion, an action that perhaps meant more to Newt than it strictly should have. But he would maintain that it was objectively an adorable gesture, considering Jacob’s personal dislike of the drink and the general American aversion to decent tea. Jacob seemed to have the power to read anyone’s emotions as easily as breathing, and if he knew them, he seemed to be able to work out exactly what they needed to feel better again. He was incredible, with the kind of instinctive empathy that was more magical than anything in the wizarding world, and Newt loved him with all of his heart. And no matter what horrible, foul days came his way in the future, he knew they would be much more bearable if he let Jacob in. He may not feel good immediately, but he could feel better, and that was definitely something.


End file.
